fellowshippers | If I Die (part 9a)

Title: If I Die (Part 9a)

Author: dani_grl4

Pairing: Dom/Billy

Rating: R

Disclaimer: So glad this isn’t true.

Feedback: Makes the world go ‘round. Love for all the lovely feedback so far.

Warning: Angst, minor hospital squick. However, despite the title, there is no death.

Summary: Nope, can’t give it away.

A/N: I couldn’t post this all in one post. Part b in one sec…

Prologue, Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

“Ah, fuck, Dom. Shit, shit, shit. Can you get me a wet towel or something?” Elijah asks, with an apologetic look at the officers standing around, who watch as Dom throws up all over their station. Fortunately his lack of food intake means it’s over pretty quickly.

“Thanks,” he says as he’s handed several wet cloths. The officer looks a little put-off when Elijah uses one to wipe Dom’s mouth rather than to clean up the mess.

“C’mon, man. Sit back.” He takes Dom by the arms and forces him back on his arse to lean against the wall.

“Talk to me.” He presses another wet towel against Dom’s forehead, looking quizzically at the phone still pressed to his ear.

A thought suddenly occurs to Elijah. What if Billy’s badly hurt, or worse and Dom hears that over the telephone when the police arrive?

“I can’t hear him anymore, Lij.” Dom’s sweating freely, but is cold to Elijah’s touch.

“They’ll get there. They’re on their way. Why don’t you give me the phone, Dommie?” Elijah tries to be casual but authoritative. Dom is shaking his head.

“He’s bleeding and I think he’s unconscious, or…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but instead calls Billy’s name into the phone again. And once more, there’s no response.

Dom’s eyes are pleading with Elijah’s but no words are exchanged, nor are they needed.

“Give me the phone, okay? The police will be there any minute. They’ll let us know what happens.”

Dom understands what he is saying and reluctantly hands over the phone to Elijah, who closes it quietly. No, he certainly doesn’t want to hear his world end through some shoddy mobile phone, God knows where.

They sit on the floor of the station in silence, waiting. Several long minutes go by without a word from anyone, although the pitiful stares speak volumes.

“I can’t do this,” Dom whispers into his hands. Elijah knows he’s not talking to him but he answers anyway.

“Can’t do what, Dom?”

Dom shakes his head. “This. Be alone.”

“You’re not alone, I’m right here, Dom, and I’m never leaving.” Elijah reassures him.

“I can’t be without him, Lij, I can’t do it. He’s dead, I know it. ‘s my fault? It is, it is,” he says as the tears take over.

“Shhh, Dommie, this isn’t your fault.” He doesn’t know what to say at all so he lets Dom rest his head in his lap and cry instead.

An agonising hour passes and Dom is still laid in Elijah’s lap, both of them still sat on the floor. Dom’s managed to cry himself to sleep, for which Elijah is very grateful. He leans his head back and tries to contemplate what life would actually be like without Billy. He can’t at all.

“Jesus, Dom, no wonder you’re losing it,” he whispers, so as not to wake him. He soothes Dom’s occasional, exhausted sob by gently stroking his hair. Elijah thinks for a moment that maybe he was too hard on him earlier, when he told him to pull it together. God, did he really say he would lock him up? What right did he have, after all, to tell Dom how to feel or behave? But Elijah quickly pushes these thoughts aside. He knows his speech to Dom came from an intense fear of losing him and that if Billy had heard Dom talking like that he would have reprimanded him with words Elijah’s not sure he’s old enough to hear.

“I’m just holding you together until Billy gets back, that’s my job,” he explains close to his mate’s ear, but Dom doesn’t stir.

“Mr. Wood?”

Elijah looks up to see a rather young police officer, trying to be quiet so as not to startle them.

“Detective McNamara would like me take you and Mr. Monaghan to the hospital now.”

Elijah’s confused for a second. “Wait, what? They found Billy, then?”

“The rescue attempt was successful and they were taking Mr. Boyd to the hospital as of a few minutes ago. He is alive and I believe conscious when they found him.”

“Oh thank you, God. Did you call Billy’s sister?” Elijah asks.

“She’s on her way as well,” the policeman assures him.

Elijah shakes Dom, hard. “Dommie, wake up.”

Dom sits up slowly and looks at Elijah as though he has no idea why they’re sat on the floor.

He smiles at Dom a genuine smile he hasn’t managed since the day Billy disappeared nearly two months ago. “They got Billy, Dom. C’mon, we’re going to the hospital.” He wishes he had more information to give him about how Billy is doing, but the important thing is that he’s alive.

Elijah jumps to his feet and reaches down to help Dom, who’s given no visible reaction to the news. “Dom, did you hear what I said?”

He looks up at Elijah, as though somehow he might be playing a horrible joke on him. “Billy’s – alive? Are you sure?”

The officer, still standing there waiting, says, “Oh yes, he’s definitely alive.”

Elijah thinks he can see a bit of colour return in his friend’s face.

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Dom is fidgety on the way to the hospital. He stares out of the window, absentmindedly picking at the seat, bouncing his knee, running a hand through his hair. Anything to distract himself from his own thoughts, not to mention Elijah’s large eyes, watching him.

He watches the palm trees breeze by, one after the other, illuminated by the streetlights. It’s such a beautiful night, he thinks, and it’s hard to accept that the outside world can be so peaceful when he doesn’t think he’ll be peaceful again.

Dom knows there are thoughts that his mind is furiously trying to block out, and has been for the better part of two months. But there are no distractions, no excuses now. He is on his way to see his Billy.

‘Oh yes, he’s definitely alive.’ The words that should inspire nothing but gratitude and relief offer something else as well. Something that Dom doesn’t think he can handle. His mind is racing faster than the scenery passing by outside his window, as unwanted thoughts slam down on him as though from a great height.

He blames you.

“No,” he says, too quietly for anyone to hear.

He was angry with you that night. You were flirting shamelessly with everyone but him.

He shakes his head.

They hurt him. Your poor, beautiful Billy. They hurt him enough to draw blood and God knows how far that went. You put him there. Now you have to face him.

“No!” Dom shouts suddenly and put his head in his hands as he rocks back and forth.

“Dom, what is it?” Elijah places a hand at once on Dom’s shoulder. The car stops and before he can inquire further, Elijah sees something he does not like at all.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you do something about them?” he asks the officer who’s driving, motioning to the huddled crowd of reporters already descending on the car.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you in.”

Elijah looks at Dom, who still has his head in his hands. “Dom? We’re here. Let’s go.”

Dom allows Elijah to drag him out of the car swiftly by the arm. The clicking sounds invade his head. He looks down at his own feet to shield the bright flashes of light. He can’t see where he’s going but Elijah is leading him with determination, and judging from the sound of his voice, rage.

“Move the fuck out of the way!”

He practically shoves Dom through the entrance of the hospital into Sean, who is waiting for them in the lobby. “God, I’m sorry guys,” he says, nodding at the photographers outside. “They followed us from your house, Dom.” He’s already leading the way to the lift.

Dom stops several feet away, making it clear he’s not going anywhere just yet. “Sean?”

Sean knows what Dom wants, what he needs. He glances at Elijah quickly with an uncertain look and takes a deep breath. “He’s awake. It’s too soon to know anything yet for sure. He was, um, beaten up pretty badly.” Sean looks for a reaction from Dom. When his expression remains unchanged, he continues. “Probably a concussion, nasty gash on his head, several broken ribs, a broken arm, bruises, cuts. Nothing that won’t heal, though,” he adds with emphasis. “They’re going to take him to X-ray soon, but wanted to let you see him first. Margaret is with him now, and everyone else is on their way.” Sean walks over to Dom, who still hasn’t moved, and gathers him into a tight hug which he doesn’t return. “We’re here for you and Billy,” Sean tells him.

Elijah watches Dom’s lack of reaction carefully, still unsure about his outburst in the car on the way over. He holds Dom’s hand in the lift on the way upstairs. Not with their fingers interlaced, because that’s too intimate for Dom to handle with anyone except Billy. But rather, the way one would hold the hand of a child. Only in this instance, Dom is the child; so vulnerable and small, and Elijah is the guardian.

He’s grateful that Elijah is squeezing his hand. His emotions threaten to overwhelm him as the digital numbers in the lift ascend and if he just concentrates hard on the pressure in his hand he can possibly not think about the condition Billy’s probably in. He stares at his feet, hoping that the words he wants to say to Billy will come to him in the next minute or so.

“C’mon, Dom.” He doesn’t realise the lift has stopped on their floor. The other people in the lift look quizzically as Elijah urges Dom on by tugging at his hand.

Detective McNamara is waiting for them in front of Billy’s room. “We got him, Dom.” The detective is positively beaming. “You can see him but only for a few minutes. They need to do some tests and all but it looks like he’ll make a full recovery.”

Dom looks out from the blonde fringe covering his eyes. “You go ahead, ‘Lij. I want to talk to the detective for a sec.”

“W-what?” He’s sure he must be hearing wrong. “Sblomie, Billy’s waiting to see you, not me.”

“Please just go Elijah. I’ll be right in.” Detective McNamara nods to Elijah, who still can’t comprehend what’s happening with Dom, but grateful to finally see Billy. He gives one final look to Dom to make sure, and heads into Billy’s room.

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